


The Ten Stages of Brotherhood

by inkedskin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Underage - Freeform, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4153113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedskin/pseuds/inkedskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a soulmate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> this whole story will start straight from the beginning !

 

Sam was twelve. This young, spunky, son-of-a-gun that always got his way for everything. He sat on the old bed, head in his hands. 

It was July fourth. Sam had wanted to go out and shoot off fireworks so badly, but John wouldn't let them leave the musty old motel room. Dean hated seeing Sam so upset about something so _stupid_ , but it's something that excited Sam so it was worth seeing the light in his eyes.

Sam was jittery because of all of the soda and candy Dean had stolen, and he couldn't focus on anything at all. Dean shouldn't have given him candy.

Sam was then at the motel door, his oversized hoodie hanging loosely by his knees and his boots almost worn through. He gave Dean that damn puppy dog look, “Can we please go shoot off fireworks?”

With all of the might inside Dean he tried to say no, but his fucking eyes and his little grin and his shaggy hair made Dean look away—nodding. 

Sam's eyes lit up so brightly, they could've blinded anyone in sight. He was looking at Dean with so much love, so much care and loyalty that he ran up and hugged Dean. 

Dean was taken back a bit, wrapping his arms around little Sam before stooping down to his level. “I hid the fireworks. Go into the bathroom and under the sink there should be a red basket full of 'em.”

Sam jumped up and squealed, “Dad would never let us do this.” And yet again he sent Dean a flashing dimpled grin.

Dean slid on his jacket and waited for Sam to come out of the bathroom with a basket. He did. Dean opened the door for Sam and he had never seen that kid run so fast in his life. 

“Come on, slow poke!” Sam yelled from ten feet in front, woods coming in full view behind the motel walls. “I'm gonna beat you, _Dee_.”

Dean grinned widely at his nickname and started running, beating Sam with a loud laugh and standing in the middle of a field, breathless and eyes wide.

“You got the lighter?” Sam spoke, setting down the basket and pulling out two large firework sticks. 

Dean reached into his pocket and fished around before pulling out a white lighter. “Course I do.”

“Light 'em up.” Sam grinned up at Dean as he lit them, both boys staring at the sky.

Blue, purple, white— all of these colors were so blinding yet beautiful, and Dean swore he saw them in Sam's eyes. 

He felt warmth in his cheeks and he saw Sam stare back at him, an extra set of fireworks exploding inside of them. He touched Sam's waist and pulled him in, eyes shining. 

“Can I kiss you?” Was the only thing blurting out of Sam's mouth, pleading brown eyes and wet lips staring back at Dean.

This was perfect. Dean had been waiting for the right moment, the right time to kiss Sam. The right time to hold him in his arms and never let go.

This was that moment. 

Dean leaned in and softly placed his lips on Sam's plump, soft ones and he heard another loud crack of the last set of fireworks.

Dean pushed up Sam's body and held him, legs around Dean's waist and their mind jumbled and melted as their lips moved in sync. 

Fireworks cracked and Sam swore this wasn't real and that all of this was a dream—but it wasn't. Sam choked back a whimper and he gripped onto Dean. 

Dean was his first kiss. He never knew what came onto him this night, he never had the intention to kiss his brother—but it felt right. It felt normal and beautiful in a of the wrong ways.

Sam loved Dean. Sam wanted Dean to be his only and forever and he wanted Dean to be their when they were older and he wanted Dean to be there when they were soon to be dying and—

He just wanted Dean to be his. 

Dean finally set Sam down, and they both dated breathlessly at the fireworks above, hand in hand. “Thanks, Dean. For everything.” 

Dean stood closer to his baby brother, mind telling him to fucking pull back and run because this was wrong and just disgusting but Dean said no, he wanted this. They both did. 

They both wanted each other. They would be with each other until the end, until the end of time, until the world ended and then there was oblivion. 

Dean held tighter onto Sam's small hand, eyes bright and fireworks shooting off. 

And on July Fourth, 1996—

Sam kissed his brother for the first time.


	2. Promise me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER! each chapter is the boys getting older. so sam was 12 last chapter, and in this he's thirteen. so each chapter changes as they get older. :-) hope that clears things up. also, the chapters are gonna be kinda short sometimes so yeah.

 

Sam was thirteen. It was only his first hunt, I mean—he'd killed a ghost and a phantom before, but this time it was something else. Two vamps. Dean didn't stay up all night like Sam did, but he honestly didn't know how to comfort Sam and tell him not to be nervous. 

Hell, Dean wanted to sleep through his first hunt. But either way, Dean was slightly worried for Sam. Something could happen, you know. He kept peering over at Sam, his bed only a few inches from his own. 

It was three AM. Shit, Dean really needed to sleep but Sam was just staring at the ceiling, legs trembling. He let his eyes close for a second before he finally stood up. “Scoot over,”

Sam looked up at Dean with confused eyes, before he squished himself against the poorly painted wall. “What're you—”

“You obviously can't sleep so I'm gunna help. Your first _actual_ hunt is tomorrow, and you need sleep. Go to bed, Sammy.” Dean sighed, turning on his side to keep some space in between him and his brother. 

Sam—still looking confused—turned around and faced the wall, slightly scooting closer. “Dean? You still awake?”

Dean opened his eyes back up, “No.” Before he sighed louder this time, Sam propped himself up on one elbow. 

“You think I'll be okay tomorrow?” Sam, being a stickler for truth, Dean swallowed down a lie and also sat up. Sam still stared through the darkness, eyes searching.

After a killer silence, “I don't know. As long as I'm there, you'll be fine.” And he rolled back over, pulling Sam closer to him. 

“—But what if,”

“ _Sammy_ , close your eyes. Go to sleep.” Dean muttered, arms wrapped tight around Sam—too tight actually. It was hard for him to breathe and think. 

Sam shook now, eyes closing tightly and his hand gripping Dean's. Sam liked how safe he felt, and he liked how he possibly was able to sleep through the night. 

Didnt have to worry about checking for monsters under his bed. Dean was fast asleep, and Sam still wasn't but with the sound of Dean's breathing and his chest against his back, he could sleep. 

“Stop squirming. I'm here. Not gunna leave you.”

He finally stopped squirming and he let his eyes close. 

 

 


	3. Broken Leg

 

Sam was fourteen when he broke his leg. Dean—being way over protective—wanted to smash that shapeshifters head into a wall. He did. Being eighteen was hard. He mostly was now legal to take Sam with him and run away, but that wasn't on John's plan.

Sam limped his way into the small kitchen, John following behind with a bag of pills and a heat pad. “Sam....gotta be more careful next time.”

Sam only nodded. He couldn't help it. Distracing those things are only difficult and it's hard to even try and stab one with silver. He can barely even hold the knife after having blisters appear on his hand.

Dean walked into the small kitchen and swooped Sam into a hug. “I can finally call you cripple.” And Sam let out the most warmest laugh Dean has heard throughout his age. 

Sam grinned and kissed Dean's nose before he looked down at his leg. “Wanna sign it?”

“Hell yeah.” Dean mumbled, leaning down and pulling a sharpie out of his back pocket. (He just went shopping for Sammy—mostly stealing.) 

Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry or yell at Dean because of what he drew. Dicks. He drew three  dicks. Dean stood up, hands clapping together and a laugh loud enough to cure cancer.

“You jerk!” Sam yelled, trying to grab Dean but ended up falling into his arms. “I don't—” trying to let himself out of Dean's grasp, “Dean!”

Dean leaned forward and stole another kiss from Sam, and he buried his face in Sam's neck. “M'Sammy,”

Sam wrapped his arms around him, hands running through his hair. “Do you think this is a sin?” 

Dean stood up at that, eyes squinted, “Us? Together?”

“Yeah,”

There was a silence and Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's waist. “No. I think that we were meant to be together, not apart. Like God planned for us to be together.”

Sam smiled. Somewhere deep down he knew that this whole relationship thing with his brother would cost him, but for the moment he was happy. He enjoyed life like this.

Dean didn't know what just came out of his mouth but he smiled also. If it was a sin, they were both going to hell anyways. 


	4. Hold me

 

Sam was now fifteen. He was stubborn, weirdly growing, and going through a hell a lot of hormones. Dean, being nineteen and almost being able to leave the house cried almost every night because he couldn't stand seeing Sam beat himself up about this. 

One night Dean woke up with cold sheets next to him and he freaked, grabbing his knife and walking out of the bedroom. It was quiet—to quiet actually. Never good. The bathroom door was open a few inches and Dean opened it, eyes wide.

Sam stood naked by the mirror, eyes bloodshot and his hands shaking. His hair was turned in every way, closing his eyes now. 

Dean lowered his knife, lips parted in confusion. “Sam—”

“I'm so ugly.” Sam whispered, his voice hoarse and low. “I hate everything about my body.”

Dean walked closer, but Sam pushed himself against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don't—Don't look at me!”

“Sammy,” So much hurt and heart break was shoved into that simple name, that it made Sam break down more. “You're beautiful.”

Sam sobbed harder, hands clutching his bare stomach. “Please—Stop looking at me,” But Dean didn't stop looking.

“Dammit Sam, you're so beautiful. I envy you sometimes, you know. I love your dimples, and—”

“S-Stop!” Sam cried, trying to get out of Dean's grasp, “You're—”

“—your eyes are beautiful, and so are your hands and your hair, everything—”

“Dean!” Sam cried, pushing himself (well trying) out of Dean's grasp, but Dean held him close, Sam's naked body trembling against him.

“Everything is beautiful, Sammy.” 

Sam clutched onto Dean's shirt, “You're lying. You're my brother—you're obliged to say that.” 

Dean sighed and held Sam's face in his hands, “Look at me.” 

Sam let himself turn into jello and he collapsed in Dean's arms, eyes still not meeting his. 

“ _Look_ at me, baby.” Dean stroked under Sam's eye and he finally looked over at Dean. 

So much sadness and horror shone in Sam's eyes. So much. Dean didn't want to look at him but he forced himself too. He didn't want to see the sadness but he let Sam look at him and he looked at Sam. 

“Everything about your body is beautiful. Every fucking inch. I adore every single bit of your body.” Dean whispered, pulling their foreheads together.

Breathing together, Sam let Dean carry him back to bed, (no matter how tall Sam was getting) and they fell asleep, Dean holding him. 


	5. Come back to me

 

Dean kissed Sam. Rough and sweet, but he did it because he cared. He didn't care if he got Sam's cold, he didn't care if he got sick. It was Dean's first hunt—alone. 

John was testing him. He wanted to see if he could survive a vamp hunt. A huge vamp nest, and Sam was scared. What if he didn't come back? 

“Promise me you'll come back safe, De. Please—”

Sam gripped onto Dean's shirt, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing. “I promise.” 

“You—I swear you-” Sam couldn't even form a sentence as John pulled Dean away, mumbling and handing him an ax and a butcher knife. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled, running toward him and hugging him tightly, almost on the verge of crying. “Please, be safe. Think of me.” 

Dean only nodded, walking out, and leaving the sixteen year old boy behind. 

 


End file.
